The Lull
by gaffer42
Summary: Sorry, NOT NEW. Repost and reformat of existing story. Written after Season 1 cliffie, before The Eye was broadcast. Not slash. Koyla and the rest have retreated from Atlantis, but he left something behind and now McKay is going to suffer for it.


The characters of Atlantis don't belong to me, they're someone else's property. I'm just playing with them, and the wonderful universe they created – it's such a nice place to play! I don't make money off these tales, but I do hope that my friends enjoy them.

**OoO**

**Chapter 1**

_We'll start with the basics. Calibration equipment, left cabinet. Wire and solder, right cabinet. Connectors, top drawer, power sources middle drawer, snacks, bottom drawer. Also under my files in my desk, and in the S slot of my filing cabinet. Help yourself._

The smell of ozone still hung in the air, and would for some time. John climbed the steps, hearing a crackle and a "yipe!" from one of the techs. It was like the whole city was a cat on a dry winter day – full of static. He grinned to himself and entered the control room, where Dr Weir was supervising the repairs of the Earth-origin items that had reacted badly to the power surges. She smiled at him as he entered.

"So how are the youngsters?"

"I have to give Ford some pilot lessons. However, they're all in one piece. Carson made for the infirmary like a hermit crab for his shell." He stretched and wandered over to the window, looking down at the Gate – active, members of their team coming through the event horizon. It was one of his favourite views.

Elizabeth cleared her throat behind him. "John – "she hesitated "we found your two men. It was Gray and LaTraverse. I'm sorry."

He sighed. It was something he knew still waited for him, the other side of being in charge. He'd known them, played cards with them.

"I'm sorry too." He turned back to her. "I'll start putting together a memorial soon as everyone's back on the city." A memorial. He'd have to speak, to write letters, too, though how they'd get back to their families he had no idea. The thought sobered him. If things had been just a bit different they might have all died. And the Pegasus mission would have gone down in the annals as one of the infrequent failures.

He glanced around. "Where's Rodney?"

"I sent him down to have that cut looked at, about half an hour ago. He'd just wrapped it up but it was hurting him."

"Yeah – about that." John rested a hip on the desk and folded his arms. "So how did it happen, anyway?"

Weir turned her attention to the console. "I was showing them the storage room. When I came back, he'd been cut and they knew the plan to save the city. Kolya used it as a control on him – when Rodney blocked him from killing me, Kolya had him dragged away and I didn't see him again until the Genaii surrendered."

John stood abruptly. "And he just wrapped it up and kept working till you kicked him downstairs." There was an edge in his voice, and she looked up at him in surprise, hearing it.

"Yes – he said it wasn't bad, but he couldn't type very well and he looked really shaken, so…"

"Did you send anyone with him?" It wasn't just an edge, now, he was truly angry.

"I didn't have anyone to spare." she snapped, finding herself defensive. It made her angry too. "Major, he is an adult, and we are in a crisis here."

He backed off a bit, but it wasn't hard to see his irritation. "How long were you separated?"

"Maybe an hour. No more." She moved to him, anger fading in the face of what was evidently real worry. "John, what am I missing? You're very angry with me. What did I do wrong?"

"They tortured him for the plan, Elizabeth." he stated baldly. "Then they used the pain of the wound to control his behaviour, and then he was with them alone for an hour." He turned, slammed his hand on the console. "Carson, is McKay down there?"

"Haven't seen him" came the response a few seconds later. "Why?"

"I'll be down." He released the com and glared at Weir.

"Where would he go?" she asked, surprised. "And why?"

"Someplace alone, probably to dwell on what he sees as his shortcomings. And because he was tortured, Elizabeth. That's what you do." He spun on his heel and headed down the stairs. "I'm going to find him. If he comes back here have him escorted to the infirmary."

She watched him leave, and suddenly it all made sense.

OoO

**Chapter 2**

_The formulas are in the notebook – guess they'll give it to you. I can't believe we didn't think to hook the ZPM up when the storm hit – it might have charged the same way it charged the shield generators. Sam did that once when they were stranded – powered the gate by lightning. A strike alone wouldn't get us back to earth, but it might juice up that dead battery we've got. Something to try next time. And if we get any more storms like that remember to lay the rubber mats – talk about static!_

John stayed in the center of the halls, the sides still crackled with static. Where would he go, if he were Rodney? Someplace he felt safe. Where would he feel safe? The lab? His quarters? They would be the first areas checked. Somewhere to regroup, that no one else knew about.

Or that only few people knew about. He stopped by the window and thought hard for a moment, shading his eyes against the sun glinting on the water. Sun. On the water. "That's it." He picked up his pace, trotting, then running.

McKay had spent some summers in a cottage town in Northern Ontario, he had once mentioned. It had been one of the very few snippets of personal information he had volunteered. He had been very young, and he mentioned endless days spent swimming, climbing the rocks, and searching for bugs and frogs. There was a spot that he and Sheppard had come across when on one of the endless city scouting trips, it was as old a section as they'd ever seen, and it looked out from the tip of one of the arms as if it were the last spit of land in the world. It had reminded McKay of the point of the Canadian Shield that had been his own private spot during those childhood days. The wind was fresh there and the water seemed steel grey-blue. They had ended up eating lunch there, and Rodney had made certain to note it on his map.

Sheppard blessed his pilot's memory as he jogged around the corner and saw, far down at the end, the hunched figure. He walked out carefully, balancing against the breeze that still pushed the water into whitecaps and the whitecaps over the walkway that led out there.

Rodney was sitting, crosslegged, right arm pulled close and supported by the left. He didn't turn as John walked up, didn't look up, didn't react when Sheppard sat down beside him to the windward side. The remains of the storm had whipped the foam off the waves. It was a measure of Rodney's state of mind that he was wet from it, but still sitting.

"You're supposed to be in the infirmary." he said mildly. McKay's profile never shifted, as if he hadn't heard.

John returned silence with silence for a few minutes, but the spray was constant, and his jacket was damp and cold, and it finally bugged him enough.

"I can sit here as long as you can."

It was a childish thing to say, he realized as he said it, but it seemed to define the relationship he had with the other man. It was almost like family - maybe not like a brother, not yet, but a cousin almost his own age that he could argue with and joke with and still respect.

"Well, whoop-te-do." It wasn't the response he'd looked for, but it was a response.

"Heard what happened. Elizabeth told me."

A snort. "Yeah, right. Wimpy scientist spills the beans."

"Maybe." McKay glared at him, and John shrugged. "You have to cut her some slack, Rodney. She hasn't been in that position. She has no idea."

"Yeah, and you do, huh?" He turned away again, staring over the sea.

"Well, actually...yeah." He made his own survey of the waves, waiting.

"Really?" his voice was incredulous.

He nodded, intending to meet McKay searching gaze, but finding himself unable to.

"Afghanistan. We were shot down and I must have passed out - I woke up and I was in this little hole of a cell. Pail for water in one corner, pail for - well, the other stuff in the other corner. This guy came in and shot me - bang. Right in the upper arm. Hurt like a sonovabitch." Unconsciously, he rubbed it. "He babbled at me for a few minutes and left. I got the bleeding mostly stopped, but then he came in with a couple gorillas and dragged me out - made certain to grab where he'd shot, too. I passed out a couple times." He drew a breath, finding it hard to continue, and McKay shifted slightly nearer. It was an unexpected move, and somehow he sensed it was meant to be supportive.

"I was lucky, I found out later, though it sure didn't feel like it at the time - the only English interrogator they had was back at their base for some reason. They roughed me up a bit, though, and every time they grabbed my arm..." he drew a breath "geez, if they'd asked me anything, I'd have told them. Anything. I'd have sold my soul for morphine. It was dumb luck no one there could understand my language."

"How'd you get out?"

"My co-pilot had been thrown from the wreckage - he wasn't hurt that bad. He was coming back to pull me out when the jeeps pulled up, so he just made like a hole in the desert and called in support. They busted me and four others out of there - three Brits and another American. The American died - I never found out what happened to the Brits."

Silence from McKay.

"I never told anyone the whole story till it started affecting my skills. I just kept it all inside, took my medal, and I couldn't sleep for eight months after. When I took the top of a tree off they threatened to ground me. I went outside the service - I didn't want anyone I knew to hear what happened. Everyone called me a hero. But it was just the language, Rodney. If they'd spoken English I'd've probably spilled."

"Doubt it."

It made him angry. "Damn, I thought you'd understand, at least! Rodney - everyone breaks somewhere, sometime. You let me know what they wanted, it kept us all alive and got us out of the situation! I didn't even have that to do. All I could do was sit in the cell."

"Well, I suppose being a punching bag is better..."

"They beat you?" John sat straighter, reached out and turned McKay's face to him.

"Come on, they wouldn't hit me where it showed. Gut, ribs, kidneys..."

"And we're sitting here jawing away?" He pushed himself to his feet and reached down. "Let's go inside and see Carson."

McKay ignored the outstretched hand a moment. "I didn't mean to tell, you know. I thought I could be stronger"

"I know. I felt the same. But we're here now, and everything's ok." He slid his hands under the physicist's arms and lifted.

McKay let himself be helped up. "Great, fine, thanks." he said, pushing away, then his knees buckled.

"Oops!" John pulled the shorter man's arm over his shoulders. "There."

"I'm just stiff. Give me a minute." McKay muttered, but John just nodded.

"Sure." he said. "I'll give you a few of them. Later. Let's go."

**OoO**

**Chapter 3**

…_so if you disconnect that, remember to make certain no one with the gene is anywhere nearby. Take my word for it. It was embarrassing. And they have to have had something around to get rid of that discolouration – it took days to wear off. Everyone asked why I was wearing a turtleneck. Like I don't look good in a turtleneck? _

Carson was waiting, none too patiently. He helped Rodney up on the exam bed and pulled the screens round, then glanced at Sheppard, plainly preparing to tell him to leave. John caught his eye over McKay's bowed head and shook his own, slightly – Beckett raised his eyebrows but nodded.

"So Rodney, if you don't mind, I'll ask the Major to give us a hand – we're short-staffed right now."

"Whatever."

John stopped Carson as he was reaching for the hem of Rodney's shirt.

"It's not just the arm, Doc. They worked him over pretty thoroughly."

Carson nodded, took some scissors and slit carefully up one side of the shirt, and across a shoulder. Between them, they eased the shirt off, cut the bandage and unwrapped it gently. Rodney simply sat, seemingly disinterested in the proceedings, and it made it easier for Sheppard to school his expression once he saw the bruising on McKay's torso and the depth of the stab. Carson was good, the only reaction was a tightening of his lips, and his voice was steady as he conducted a brief exam. Finally he wrapped the wound again loosely with clean gauze and settled McKay back on the bed, starting an IV and covering him warmly. He beckoned Sheppard.

"I don't like some of the bruising. He doesn't have any overt symptoms of internal bleeding, but I want to keep him overnight. Did he tell you anything?"

John nodded, keeping his own eye on the physicist. "There were a couple of them beating on him for about an hour." he said. "That's after they got the plan out of him by cutting him."

Carson frowned. "Rodney?" and his tone was sick.

"I know. It's like someone beat up your kid brother. It's nothing he's had experience with, Carson. I'm worried."

"We have a couple psychiatrists on staff, John. We can help if it's needed."

Sheppard shook his head. "Let's keep it in the family. He'll want to talk later, but for right now he needs friends."

Carson nodded. "Um – the two that beat him…"

"Caught in the crossfire, went overside. I think I took one of them down, and Ford nailed the other."

The Scot nodded. "I shouldn't say this. Good."

"um. Excuse me, hate to interrupt, private conversation and all…" It was Rodney, and he stopped talking and gulped. It was a warning. Sheppard grabbed a basin from the shelf and made it to his side just as Rodney began to retch.

"Might be easier if I'd actually eaten anything…" he half-joked in one of the lulls, then was off again. Sheppard rubbed his back as the spasms continued, and Carson pulled something into a syringe and made an injection into the IV. It worked. McKay finally managed a deep breath that didn't trigger another retch, and he rinsed his mouth.

"I hate barfing." he sighed as they helped him lay back.

"Don't blame you." John said. "Listen, I have to talk to Carson, then report to Elizabeth. Then I'll come by again."

Rodney just nodded, closing his eyes.

Carson followed him to the door.

"I want to do some tests, and take a closer look at that cut. It's too infected for how long it's been open."

"No problem." Sheppard met the doctor's eyes. "Carson, he shouldn't be alone, not tonight…"

Beckett nodded, as if he had been anticipating this. "Come on back once you've had a shower and a bite. I'll make up another bed."

Sheppard turned to the door.

"John…if it's bringing back bad memories…"

…and spun back.

"Does everybody know?" he demanded.

"Elizabeth and I. And now, I would presume, Rodney…She's your commander. I'm your doctor. I sometimes know things about people as their doctor I wouldn't as their friend – there's a duality to my job."

John sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'll go report now and be back. But if his condition changes, you contact me right away, ok?"

Carson nodded and turned back to his patient.

OoO

**Chapter 4**

_Well, maybe I don't look good in a turtleneck. And it's ZedPM, not ZeePM. Do me that favour, anyway, Zelenka. Now, going offworld…_

Weir saw him approach and waved him to her office, speaking into her headset. Below him, the Gate was open, and a steady stream of people moved into the area and through, dispersing to their duty stations. He watched, turning when he heard the door close behind him. Her gaze was cool as he turned, and he realised she was still angry.

"Report, Major."

"He's in rough shape, physically, mentally. The knife wound hit bone, he's been beaten pretty thoroughly. Carson is worried about internal injuries. He'll be in infirmary at least overnight for observation." He matched his report to her attitude, sitting on his irritation firmly.

"I'll stop in later, when the last of our people return."

The 'our people' rankled, it was her subtle way of reminding him they were jointly responsible for the entire group - or maybe he was just being overly sensitive.

"Looks like everything's under control, though – guess you don't need me." He knew he was being childish again, but he was too tired and worried to care. "Part of being a leader is knowing where to be to do the most good."

She blinked at that, and he realized he'd gone too far.

"You're needed here, Doctor. I'm needed in the infirmary." he elaborated. It wasn't an apology, but it was an acknowledgement. "Lt. Ford can manage what needs doing, and if he needs backup I'm close."

"In the infirmary." It was a neutral observation.

"Yes."

She sat, rubbing her eyes. "I could use your help here, John. We have a lot of materiel to deal with, and we still have to get the C4 off the bottom of the city. Without Rodney we're short on the technical end, too - if you were here I could pick up some of the slack."

They were observations, not accusations. Not demands. He was being overly sensitive, he concluded.

He took the chair next to her. "I've been where he is now." he reminded. "I know what it's going to be like for him. I have to be there, Elizabeth," and he leaned forward, willing her to understand "The first day or so is important. Carson can deal with the physical side, but" he frowned, not finding the words to explain. "I have to be there, is all"

She sighed, and leaned back, and nodded.

"OK, John – we'll manage." she said, and gave him a tired smile. "Go on. Keep me in the loop, though, and don't be afraid to ask for help on his behalf - he's a pain in the ass" and he smiled "but I can't imagine this place without him."

With her words, his tension dissolved and he relaxed a bit. Knowing Elizabeth understood made it easier. Though it wouldn't have made any difference to his actions, it made a world of difference to his conscience.

"Sorry if I was short with you." he apologised.

Elizabeth waved it off. "When's the last time you had anything to eat? Or slept?" she asked.

"About the same time you did." he returned. "I think we're into two days now. Mind you, I did have an energy bar about six hours ago." He grinned. "Got to keep trim, you know."

She smiled ruefully. "I know I'm going on adrenaline now." she said. "I'm scared to sit down for fear I'll fall asleep. And I over-react to things."

That was a tacit admission and he nodded. "Me too. Listen, why don't you give the control room over to Zelenka? Take a couple hours nap and you'll feel like a million bucks."

She stood, stretched. "And you?" she asked.

"Carson said he'd make up a cot."

She smiled faintly. "I'll come by before I go to bed." she said, and around the chair. The monitor on her desk chirped. "Weir."

"Doctor, is the Major still there?" It was Carson and he sounded strained.

"Yes. What's the problem?"

"Can you send him down as soon as possible? We have - another situation."

"He's" she looked up, but Sheppard was halfway down the stairs, moving at a run "...on his way."

"Good. If you could join us when you have a moment, too." Carson clicked off and she frowned at the comm.

"I think I have a moment now." she said to herself, and followed in Sheppard's wake.

OoO

**Chapter 5**

…_so just remember to keep your head down and do what the Major tells you. And what Ford tells you. Oh, and what Teyla tells you, too. Seriously, Zelenka. I can see you now, shaking your head, but if you're not going to go through the 'Gate why the heck did you come out here, anyway? _

Rodney was muttering something petulantly as Sheppard entered, something about doctors and Wraith being related, only doctors drew blood.

"Wouldn't that make them vampires?" John asked as he wandered up to the bedside. He'd put the brakes on a few feet from the door and sauntered in, trying to keep some semblance of dignity, but Carson had glanced up as he entered, expression unreadable. The doctor knew how long it took to get between the infirmary and the control room, and Sheppard's time was definitely in the top ten. He looked down again, grinned in response to the comment and put a bandaid on the puncture.

"Hah." Rodney returned, and Sheppard was ready for a rejoinder, but McKay just sighed, swallowed and laid his head back, eyes closed.

Sheppard turned quietly to follow Carson, but Rodney spoke. "So are all the lost lambs finding their way home?"

Sheppard saw Carson head off to the lab again, and raised an eyebrow at him, but the doctor shook his head and gestured subtly "stay". So whatever it was, it wasn't immediate.

Perching on the adjoining bed, he shrugged. "More or less. Almost everyone's here. Elizabeth's got Zelenka covering your duties, Ford's covering mine, and the three of us have permission to sleep for a week."

Rodney sighed. "I could do that." he said quietly. "and I think maybe I will, eh? Had an old professor, never slept more than a couple hours a night. Said – said he'd sleep when he's dead. Sometimes you just don't have a choice, do you?"

"What'dya mean? It wasn't too bad a cut, and Carson says there's nothing internal ..."

"He called you down, didn't he?" The physicist opened his eyes, rolled his head over to look at John. "That's either a really good sign, or a really bad one. Considering how rotten I feel I tend towards the bad side."

Sheppard hopped down, trying to ignore the sick feeling he suddenly had.

"You're over-reacting, McKay. You know Carson, he's cautious by nature." The physicist merely looked at him, then closed his eyes again.

"Look, I'll go talk to him and see what's going on." He headed for the lab.

"No internal injuries." Carson said even before Sheppard asked. "But there's something causing deterioration of the muscles, the organs. The walls of the blood vessels."

He held up the knife that had been found on Kolya's dead body. It was now wrapped in plastic. "The knife was poisoned."

"Oh, crap."

"Exactly." He put it down. "I can't tie it to any known poison. The test results don't make sense – maybe because it's Genaii, our analyser was based on Gouald technology." John heard a step behind him and glanced back. Elizabeth was there. "Put simply, it's acting like a neurotoxin. It's very degenerative."

"Meaning?" She'd seen the knife and drawn the connection.

"The damage is accelerating. He has – maybe – a few hours."

Sheppard sat carefully on the stool, trying not to let the shock show.

"You've taken samples from the knife, of course. Anything?" Weir asked.

"I can't break it down, and I can't even begin to understand how it's doing this. And Rodney doesn't have time. You need to talk to the prisoner, Elizabeth. There has to be a counteragent."

"And you can bet Cowen won't give it to us if we ask." John said softly. "Carson, does he know?"

"He suspects. I wanted to be certain. I am now." he sighed and stood. "I'd better go tell him."

John took his arm. "Dr. Beckett." he said "let me. I promised I'd find out."

The physicist opened his eyes as Sheppard approached. His eyes scanned his friend's face, and he sighed.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to always be right?" he enquired acidly.

"It's a poison. Carson can't find the counteragent." John put one hand on McKay's shoulder. "Elizabeth and I are going down now to speak to the prisoner."

"They wouldn't have sent their people through without some antidote." Weir came up behind John. "We've searched their clothes and effects. Even if it's something they're immune to, Carson can maybe use that immunity…"

"How long do I have? Weeks? Days?" he frowned when no one stopped him. "Hours?"

John met his eyes. "We're not planning on mounting an attack on Cowen and his people. It would take too long."

"So. Hours." His voice shook only a bit. "Ok, I need that tape-recorder thingy Carson uses for his notes, and a pen and paper."

"Rodney, if you want to put your affairs in order…"Elizabeth started.

"Oh phu-lease! I have some complex experiments going in my lab and I need to leave some notes. One's for easier desalination, one for trickle charging the ZPM…" he pursed his lips "can't leave some of the more complex stuff for Zelenka without some notes, he's good but not as good as me…" He reached absently for the recorder Carson handed him.

"I'm still working on it, Rodney." the doctor said. "I'm not giving up."

"Good. Paper. Pen." McKay snapped, and Weir followed Beckett to his office to retrieve the requested items.

The physicist seemed a million miles away, and there was a prisoner to be interrogated. John squeezed Rodney's shoulder and started out, only to stop when his name was called urgently.

"John?"

He returned to the bedside. Behind him, Weir stopped in the doorway.

The physicist's eyes belied his earlier brave front – there were edges of panic showing. "I – um…"

"Rodney, I'll be back, I promise. I'll get the counteragent. I swear it." He heard a tiny ring of fear in his own voice and shut his mouth, and left.

OoO

**Chapter 6**

_They'll need someone good, and if it can't be me it should be you. Don't let Kavanaugh bull his way onto the team. I don't trust him as far as I could spit a dead rat. Reminds me – I have a small survival kit in my footlocker. Take it – it has everything you might need to live rough if you have to. Sam gave it to me before we left. I've carried it every mission, haven't had to use it yet. It might be good luck._

They paused outside the door.

"John, are you ready for this?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

He leaned his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He didn't want us to see how scared he was. I didn't want him to see how scared I am. Why is that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It's a guy thing." she said dryly. "If it's any consolation, I'm terrified. I don't want to lose him."

John met her level gaze, took a deep breath and nodded, then turned as running steps sounded behind him. It was Ford.

"Dr. Beckett said you might need some backup." he said. "I'm here to volunteer."

Sheppard's face showed nothing of the fear he'd admitted to seconds before.

"Let's do it."

The door slid open, and the guard looked over, then nodded as Sheppard beckoned.

"Lt Ford will relieve you in here for a while." Sheppard said briskly. "Remain outside and be ready."

"Yes, sir."

Weir glanced at the prisoner, who had stood when they entered.

"Stay here." she told the officers. "Let me take a run at her, but if I call you in..."she met John's eyes "you come at her smart."

"Right."

Ford dropped the screen and raised it again after her, and he and John stood by the door.

"Any news, sir?" Ford asked quietly.

"None good." Sheppard replied. "He's getting worse. The knife was poisoned. We're hoping to get the antidote."

Ford shook his head. "Damnit. Think she may be able to help?"

John sighed. "Hoping." he said wearily.

"If she has anything, if she knows anything, we'll get it out of her, sir." Ford said with absolute conviction. "I didn't think much of the doctor when I first met him, but he's a good guy."

"Don't ya hate it when a smartass really is smart?" Sheppard's grin was a bit crooked.

"Yeah. But with him it's just the way he is." He chuckled, remembering. "We were on that planet, the one with the fog, trying to get home, and he'd pretty much convinced himself he couldn't be spared either here or on earth. I was practically pissing myself."

"Hold on..."the voices raised a moment then dropped again. Silence. "Major, would you join me please?"

Weir stood back as he entered. "Sora here was just telling me about Kolya, and how he was an honourable man. Brave, didn't need to use anything to give him an advantage in war. She swears she knows nothing about the poison, or about an antidote. It would appear we have a difference of opinion – she believes he didn't poison McKay, and we know he did."

John nodded, listening.

"Sora was trained as a soldier. Not for long, mind you, but she has a clear idea of what a soldier does. What was it again?" she looked over at their young prisoner.

"Defends the homeland. Protects against enemy soldiers. Advances to the glory of Genaii." she said promptly.

"Just so." Weir agreed. "And their commander drilled a strict code of ethics into them. Victory through endeavour. Catchy, don't you think?"

"Catchy." John said flatly.

"And that leaves no room for such less than noble pursuits as poison, spying, sabotage." Weir finished. "And therefore there is no need for such things as antidotes. Am I right, Sora?"

"You are correct." her face was a study, fear warring with determination. And confusion.

Weir stepped back.

"Honour." Sheppard said coldly. "Nobility. All the books say that's how war should be waged. But sometimes people like to give themselves an edge. Just a small one – something to make it easier to win. Didn't any one mention anything before you left? Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"We need no such things to win. Our cause is just."

Sheppard laughed shortly. "Heard that before. Most despots use that phrase. So – there was no poison on the blade. No one spoke of it." He paused. "And it was a normal mission. Normal equipment. Nothing different?"

John's question hung in the air. Sora frowned slightly, and couldn't meet their eyes - she stared out the grid at the wall beyond, saying nothing. Weir raised an approving eyebrow at John, and he sensed it too - it was a subtle shift, but Sora was showing signs of thinking for herself. And it was evident she was having trouble reconciling her doctrine with the facts.

"You are lying." she said finally, staring up at Weir. "I have only your word for it. I don't even know if he is ill - you could be making it all up."

"For what purpose?!" Sheppard's veneer cracked for an instant, and Weir was startled by the raw emotion. He seized Sora's shoulders, willing her to understand. "Think about it, Sora. Why would we keep you here? We won. We have no reason to try to break down your beliefs - we wouldn't even be keeping you here if it weren't for the fact my friend is dying!"

Weir touched his arm lightly, and he released her, standing back and pushing at the air as if to push the emotional break from him. He took a deep breath, and started to speak, but was interrupted.

"Sheppard to the infirmary. Sheppard to the infirmary." It came over the city's system, and for a second it seemed as if time froze. Sheppard turned to Weir, and she nodded. "Go."

OoO

Chapter 7

…_and I had to go to another galaxy to find people who'd put up with me…who'm I kidding. I like them, they like me. Such a simple thing to say, and my usual bad timing…_

Weir watched Sora in the silence left behind after Sheppard tore out of the cell.

"None of us have slept for two days." she said absently, almost as if thinking out loud. "Our emotional defences are in tatters." She wandered over to the side of the cell, looking out.

"It's an odd way to run a group like this, I suppose..."she continued. "I'm in charge, and I'm a civilian. Rodney's our head of science - civilian - and John's our head of security - military."

She turned back to face Sora. "There are so many ways we clash. Ideologies, methods...but we work well together. We even like each other. We're like a three legged milking stool. But like a milking stool, if one leg breaks…" she walked over to Sora, looking down "we will make a new one. None of us are irreplaceable."

She leaned into Sora's personal space. "I don't know what your commander told you about us, but we are, above all else, survivors. We have long memories. Our emotional attachments run deep. We hold grudges."

"Emotions have no place in war." Sora said.

"We are not at war." Weir replied mildly. "You are here because of your father. I am here because of Rodney. I would think you could understand."

Sora blinked, started to say something, stopped.

Elizabeth saw the uncertainty on Sora's face, and came to a decision.

"Lieutenant. Please escort us to the infirmary."

They heard it before they got there, and Ford and Weir picked up the pace - the whine of the defibrillator, followed by the dull whump of a charge being delivered. They rounded the corner and Sheppard was doing CPR, Carson had both paddles in one hand and a syringe in the other, pushing a drug into the IV feed. The whine climbed and Weir glanced away at Sora, who was watching open-mouthed - she winced when Carson triggered the paddles, and when Weir looked back Sheppard was slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

Carson checked the beeping monitor once more. "That took too long." he said, almost to himself. "He can't take another like that."

"Major. Doctor. What happened?" Weir managed to inject a note of authority into her voice, and they responded to it.

"I called the Major when Dr. McKay became delirious. He was hallucinating. Shortly after John got here, Dr. McKay's vital signs crashed. We just now got him back."

"Is he stable?"

Carson barked a short, bitter laugh. "Not close. If we don't get that counteragent in half an hour...well, he may not last half an hour..." He glanced over. "Is that her?"

Weir nodded, and Carson took a quick step towards her. She shrank back, bumping into Ford, but Carson stopped and looked kindly at her.

"You're so scared." he said softly. "I'm sorry. But you have to understand, I'm scared too. We're here in a different galaxy, and we don't understand, and we make mistakes. I'm a doctor. I try not to make too many friends, because it hurts too much when I lose them. But maybe I made another mistake - that's my friend there and I don't want to lose him. Can you help me? Please?"

Sora seemed to close in on herself, and time stopped. She looked around the room; at Weir, gazing at McKay, at Sheppard, who was standing as if on guard by the bed, and finally at Carson, who simply watched her. Then she straightened, and scratched at a scar on her forearm.

"We were issued these just before we left." she said. "We were told it was imperative that we use it immediately on any wound received, however slight, even from our own weapons."

The scab tore away, revealing a small, flat pouch that contained some sort of liquid.

"According to our doctor it was to protect us from pathogens in this atmosphere." she said. "But it's nothing we've ever had to carry before, on any other exercises. It might be what you need."

She gave it to Carson. "It should be applied at the site of the wound."

OoO

**Chapter 8**

_Aiden, thanks for helping me learn how not to screw up. You'll be a heck of a leader one day. Teyla, I admire your strength, your determination. You're a great leader already. Carson, you're the best doctor and a great friend. Your calm keeps everyone else calm. _

One and two and three and four and five.

"Hit me."

"What?"

"Hit me! It's an experiment."

Shrugging, John delivered a light blow on Rodney's shoulder, like he was joking with a friend. His hand bounced off something that gave a bit but stopped his fist.

Rodney didn't even budge.

"What the heck?"

One and two and three and four and five

The expression in his eyes. Feeling the bug and seeing Rodney's face and the expression in his eyes.

"…one who understands how SCREWED we are?" The whine of the defibrillator.

One and two and three and four and five. Charging, and "Clear!"

and the burning, and how his muscles had ached afterward. They never talked about that on tv. The electricity cramped every muscle in the body as hard as rock for a fraction of a second, and it left you feeling like

"gone a round with George Foreman."

"You wouldn't have made thirty seconds."

"That is a round, Rodney."

"No conversion. Resume CPR."

"...locking the doors of their secret bases."

"despite what you all may think, I'm not Superman."

"I'm sorry, yes. Energy field, good."

Aching shoulders. Straining back muscles.

One and two and three and four and five.

Silence for a long moment.

"John." Hand on his shoulder. "John. It's been twenty five minutes. Carson has called it. It's over."

One and two and three and four and five.

"No."

"John." Elizabeth, right in his ear, quietly. "Let him go."

He looked up and around, at Carson, at Elizabeth beside him, at Ford, still guarding Sora.

His shoulders hurt. His fingertips were numb. He was sweating. Who knew CPR was such a workout, he thought absently. He unlocked his hands and let his arms hang, stood staring at the dead face, hearing the whine of the ECG. It stopped, suddenly, and he looked up sharply - Carson had reached up and turned off the monitor, unaware - or unashamed - of the tears on his face.

Elizabeth steered John away gently to sit nearby. He complied, feeling frozen somehow, unable to process what had happened. McKay was dead. It was just words, had no meaning… Elizabeth crouched before him, wiping her eyes. A presence beside him made him glance up at Carson, touch his arm.

"You did your best." John found the words somewhere. The doctor just nodded slightly, then looked over at Sora.

"I'm sorry," she gritted. She swept her sleeve across her eyes savagely. "I'm sorry."

"You couldn't know." Ford said quietly beside her. He no longer held the rifle aimed at her. "We're soldiers. We don't always get the whole story."

Carson moved first, pulling the tatters of his doctors' detachment around him. Deliberately, he straightened the sheets. Detached the ambubag. Composed the body. Pulled the blanket up – and over.

Elizabeth watched him, one hand on John's shoulder. It was quivering with exertion, exhaustion, emotion, and she leaned down to hear a quiet "I'm sorry" and she knew it was directed at his friend.

"You did all you could," she said softly. "Come on. We - have to let the rest know."

He drew a deep breath and stood, and took two steps, stopping by the bed, laying a hand on the blanket on the still chest. A pause. Elizabeth waited, but he didn't lift his hand, and the expression on his face changed subtly.

He reached over and snapped on the monitor again. It showed a sawblade pattern, and Carson took one look before lunging for the defibrillator. Sheppard flung the sheet back.

"The counteragent reached his heart." the doctor said, disbelievingly "It's trying to beat."

"CPR?" Elizabeth asked.

"No – shock might do it. Three, two one.. clear!" and the sawblade reverted to a nice, normal mountain range that showed no signs of stopping. Carson stared at it for a second then grabbed the ambubag again.

"Elizabeth, bag him. He's still not breathing on his own. John, help me with the vent."

The time the blood test took was constant, Beckett knew, but subjectively it was the longest five minutes he'd known. Behind him, McKay's breathing was being assisted but his heart was beating strongly again, and if the test showed what he thought it might…

"It's working," he said from the doorway. "The poison is being destroyed by the counteragent, and the blood is returning to normal."

"Meaning…" Sheppard had the expression of someone who wanted something desperately to be true, but who had been around enough to know wanting wasn't enough.

"Meaning once his body has cleared the last of the counteragent he should start breathing on his own, and soon after he should be waking up and annoying the rest of us in his old fashion."

Elizabeth couldn't keep the grin off her face. Sora looked like the weight of the world had been lifted, and she had hugged a pleased Ford when Carson had given the news.

Sheppard merely sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, then laid his hand on McKay's chest once more, as if to confirm to himself the monitor's record.

OoO

**Chapter 9**

_Elizabeth. Thank you for bringing me on this adventure. I never knew what I wanted out of life till I got here. You have such grace… _

The shower felt good on his sore shoulders. John normally took short showers - wet down, turn off the water, soap up, turn on the water, rinse off - but he splurged and enjoyed the sensation of the hot water beating down on him.

He felt, curiously, numb. In the past two days he'd gone from abject terror to burning fury to the depths of sorrow to the heights of joy. Overload. He scrubbed down and stepped out, dried off and dressed again.

Sora was in guest quarters now, still under house arrest but - almost - a friend now. Elizabeth was, he devoutly hoped, in bed. Ford had gone to the control room to pass the good news - later he would express amusement at how many people were relieved to hear of Rodney's recovery - and how many were surprised at themselves for how relieved they were.

John stretched, and, permitting himself only one longing glimpse of his bed, headed out.

The halls were dark and he was surprised to realize it was night again. Coming up on fifty hours without sleep. It was ok when he was a teen, but at the ripe old age of 35 he was feeling it, though the shower had helped. Infirmary was quiet, lights dimmed, and he could see Rodney had been moved to a quiet corner. Carson was just visible through the window of his office, bent over a report. The small tape recorder he'd lent Rodney was sitting on a chair.

"They'll never believe it." John observed, leaning against the door.

Carson didn't even jump. "Ah, it's happened before. Once, anyway, that I know of. I mind me a man hit by lightening. Did everything we could, short of tap-dancing on his chest. Called it, everything, then he coughed and sat up. Gave the nurse a turn, I can tell you." He finished writing. "My attending at the time turned to me and said "Carson - you've just witnessed a miracle. Doctors get one or two of these a career. They're what makes this job a joy."

He looked up at John. "You made this one the miracle. You never gave up."

John dropped his gaze, embarrassed. "Um." he started, wondering how to phrase it. "When he wakes up...um..."

"I don't see much chance of brain damage, no." Carson ordered his notes and slid them into a folder. "Even when his heart stopped, we still had CPR moving the blood. It's not anywhere near as efficient but it serves to stave off necrosis of the tissue." He stood. "You're not staying, are you? He won't be conscious for a long time, I gave him something to keep him out. To give his system a chance to recover."

John yawned widely. "No, I won't stay then. But do you mind if I hang round for a few minutes? I don't think I could sleep right away."

Carson nodded. "No problem. I'll check him before I leave. Good night, then."

Paper work finished, Carson stood and stretched, glancing at the gurney he'd placed near Rodney. Just another place to store it. Right. He pulled a blanket off the rack and covered a sleeping John with it.

"I'm sorry, Major, I must have misplaced the chairs." he whispered, grinning. Then he checked Rodney's monitors, nodded to his nurse, and headed to his quarters to sleep the sleep of the just.

OoO

**Chapter 10**

_John…don't hide your light, ok? I liked our arguments. The only other person I liked to argue with was a guy named Steve. Hawking. Watch your back. _

The beeping woke him. It was harsh and erratic, and merged with his nightmare so completely he sat bolt upright. Instead of the autogyrating chopper he'd dreamed, he saw the Atlantis infirmary. It took a nanosecond more to realize the beeping was the vent alarm, and that Rodney was halfway awake, panic in his eyes. He pulled himself off the gurney and reached Rodney's bedside about the same time as the nurse.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but the nurse was smiling.

"Nothing." she said. "It's good news - he's fighting the vent. Breathing on his own. Calm him, if you could, and I'll see about us getting the tube out." She toggled the alarm off, touched another button, bustled away.

John sat on the edge of the bed, hands on McKay's shoulders. "Easy, Rodney. Take it easy."

Whether it was the touch or the tone, or just his presence, McKay lay more quietly, though still tense, now fully awake, and his eyes held only one question.

"We got the antidote." John said. "Just like I promised. You're recovering, now, you're going to be fine."

Rodney relaxed completely, closing his eyes in relief.

"Yeah - know how you feel. Here's the nurse back."

"I called Carson, he'll be here in a few moments, but he said as the Doctor here" she smiled at Rodney "is being his - what was it - "usual overachieving self" - we could get rid of that thing."

She laid a green sheet down, and a cup of ice chips on the side table.

"It'll feel weird." she cautioned. "Major, can you help him sit up a bit - that's right - big cough now..." and the tube slipped up.

Rodney coughed a bit after, weakly, and accepted the ice chips gratefully, and John helped him lie down again.

"That sucked" Rodney whispered.

"I can guess." John grinned.

Rodney eyed him. "Wanna bet?"

"Now, Doctor, give yourself a bit more time" the nurse scolded. "No more talking for a while."

"That'll be the hard part, Janice." Sheppard joked. "Never mind the poisoning, or the rest – Rodney McKay, not talking. He won't last ten minutes."

Rodney glared, opened his mouth, but Janice put her hand over it.

"Shut up." she said kindly. She looked at Sheppard. "And you, stop teasing him. I don't want to have to separate you two. Honestly, you're worse than my brothers." She took the sheet and wandered away.

Sheppard found he couldn't stop grinning. "More chips?" he asked.

Rodney nodded.

"OK. And then I'll tell you what happened." He spooned a few more chips out for McKay.

"Chest hurts."

"She said to shut up. Give me a chance, Rodney, I'll tell you the whole story." He ran this hands through his hair, checked his watch. "I guess I slept ten hours. Boy, I needed it." He stretched, then frowned a bit.

Rodney watched him impatiently.

"Sorry - stiff. Listen, I have to drain the lizard. I'll be right back."

Rodney looked indignant, but John shook his head.

"Patience is a virtue." he advised. He ran into Carson on the way to the head.

"I'll be back." he said to the doctor.

"I don't doubt it." Carson replied.

Morning ablutions attended to, he found Carson had pulled the screens around for his patient's privacy as he conducted his exam. Rodney wasn't being co-operative as far as being quiet was concerned, Sheppard noted, finding himself grinning again. He perched on the gurney again. He had no intention of eavesdropping, he told himself. None at all.

"...and that?"

"mh."

Sort of a neutral noise, not distressed at all.

"And that?"

"Ow!"

It sounded like Carson flipped the covers back again. "Well, that's very good. Very good indeed."

John heard the bed motor as Carson raised it a bit.

"You're going to make a full recovery, my friend. The blood work shows no evidence of the poison, even the counteragent seems to have been removed by your body. The wound on your arm is healing already, and the bruises and such - they may be a bit uncomfortable for a day or so but that's all. The only other thing is a couple of cracked ribs you might not remember having."

"Was wondering." His voice was a bit stronger.

"Well, you know you were in pretty dire straits. Think about it."

"CPR?"

"Twice. First time you were very stubborn about it, it took only a couple jolts to bring you back. Second time - well - "

"I died"

A pause.

"Yes. We'd tried everything, Rodney. I can't tell you how many times I shocked you. Gallons of epinephrine, bicarb. I - " he paused, took a breath "I called it, but John wouldn't give up. Twenty five minutes straight CPR. And it was just as well, the antidote finally got pushed through your bloodstream and your heart just - well - came back."

There was silence. Carson cleared his throat.

"At any rate, you'll be here for another day or two."

Quietly, John took a few steps away, turned, and walked up, yawning loudly, just as Carson pulled the screen aside. "Did I miss anything?"

"Not really." Carson said. "Just mentioning I'm keeping our chatty friend here for another couple of days."

"Laptop."

Carson shook his head. "Listen to that, not awake an hour and already demanding." He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back. "John, I'm leaving him to you. Some of us have work to finish." He grinned at them both.

John grinned back. It was catching, that Rodney-is-going-to-recover grin.

OoO

**Chapter 11**

_Can't write anymore. That's a pain. And it's hard to think, too. I guess Elizabeth or John will take care of my quarters. Hope I didn't leave anything too weird behind._

Maybe five glasses of moonshine had been too much, John decided belatedly.

The memorial had gone as well as those things ever did. They'd congregated in the dining area afterwards, and at first it had been military on one side and civilian on the other, until Zelenka had cajoled several of his friends into crossing over into unknown territory. Ford had brought some of the younger, female sort of scientist over, and by the time John had his fill of the wake and left it was showing signs of becoming quite the party.

Tales of those lost were making the rounds. And, surprisingly, tales of Rodney McKay. It took the edge off the loss, which he supposed was a good thing – remembering the ones who didn't make it and the ones who did.

Elizabeth had been there for the service and returned to the control room, where a skeleton staff stayed on duty. She had encouraged him to stay with the rest and participate in the wake, which he had done. Maybe too energetically.

He made for the nearest balcony and stood in the wind for a while. He'd been this drunk a few times - thinking back, he realized they had been wakes too. From experience he knew the best way to survive was walking. Large glasses of water and walking.

He'd had the water.

He'd been walking.

He watched the sea for a while, gentle rollers coming in from the distance, waves on the water, rocking, rocking…

Vomiting had a bad rap, he decided. He levered himself up from the rail, head spinning, but his stomach felt better. Another glass of water was definitely in order.

There was a washroom nearby. He used it, rinsed his mouth, splashed cold water over his head and wandered out, glancing around to get his bearings.

Unsurprised, he noticed he'd ended up near the infirmary.

He slipped in quietly. The night nurse, Susan, glanced up and nodded acknowledgement, then returned to her reports. One other bed was occupied, the result of an unfortunate fall, but there were screens around it and John walked softly past.

There were screens around McKay's bed, too. John slid one aside and closed it again, managing to do it without waking his friend.

A couple days had become several days, as the poison seemed to have inhibited Rodney's normal recuperative powers, but once he'd begun to recover in earnest Carson had permitted visitors at reasonable times. Boredom was something the physicist loathed, so they kept his days as interesting as possible.

John had taken to wandering in late at night before going to bed, by which time McKay was generally sawing logs. Not exactly a reasonable time, but Carson hadn't said anything, so he kept it up.

Usually his visit was a quick one, but this time he pulled up a chair and sat. He was a moody drunk, he'd been told, and his mood was dark tonight.

He'd been staring into nothing for several minutes before McKay snorted and rolled over.

It twinged something, and Rodney woke, finding himself staring at John.

"Um." He blinked. "'time'sit?"

"Late oclock." John replied. "Sorry. I'll go."

"Wait." Rodney was more alert. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. We had the service." John settled back into the chair.

Rodney sniffed. "…and the wake, I see." He pressed the button and the bed raised a bit. "Have some water."

"I did, thanks."

"You had to speak, I guess."

"It always seems so …flat. Rehearsed."

"Yeah. There's only so many ways you can say "he was a good soldier." Or "he was a good scientist." Thing is, you said it. When you say it, it matters."

"Elizabeth was there, too, she said some words."

Rodney nodded. "And now everyone's getting drunk on Stewart's hooch. Great way to celebrate a couple of lives."

John glared. "It's a wake, Rodney. Drink, tell stories, drink some more…"

"get drunk, throw up, fall down. Sounds like fun. Sorry I missed it."

John's mood was moving from depression to anger. "I drank to their memories, ok? I let them down, it was the least I could do."

"whoa – wait – you let them down? Some hayseed listened to Cowan's flattery and gave them the code and it's your fault?" McKay was fuming. "Lots of blame to go around here, Saint John, Elizabeth and I suggested giving each one of the farming families one for safety's sake. I wouldn't have minded going to the service – or, come to that, to the wake. You think I haven't been doing the 'what if' mind twist myself?" He rolled over again, too quickly, and the twinge became a spike. He curled around it, groaning, and John came to his feet instantly.

"Susan!" he called, reaching for McKay's shoulders.

She was there a second later. "Major, you know better." she said, moving to check Rodney out, but he waved her off.

"My fault." he gritted, bracing into John's grip. The spasm eased and he relaxed a bit. "Don't worry. It's okay."

She fussed a bit more, gave McKay a shot of something, finally darted a warning glance at John, and left them alone again.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Sorry." John said at length.

"Me too." Rodney replied.

"We'll talk about the GDOs next meeting. And I asked Stewart to save some hooch for us. You, me, Teyla, Ford – we'll all drink to them. When you're better."

McKay nodded. His eyes were drooping.

"We'll talk about this later."

"Mhm." and he was asleep.

Shortly after, Sheppard was, too.

OoO

**Chapter 12**

_Carson was just by – poor guy. He's really trying. If you ever hear this, Carson, it's not your fault. You can't pull every rabbit out of a hat._

It was humbling.

Not that he was, by nature, humble.

But it seemed that everyone in the base had stopped by - small gifts of chocolate, coffee, even a beautifully crocheted coaster that Carson had been eyeing covetously. Reminded him of his grandmother's work, he'd said, wistfully, and Rodney had private plans to leave it under a coffee cup in Carson's office when he was finally discharged. He was certain Zelenka would understand.

And that happy time, he'd been assured, was soon. A matter of hours.

The phrase would never be the same again - seeing the worry, the fear of loss in John's eyes when he kept his word and came to tell him had made him realize how much he really, really didn't want to die.

Being a genius in a mundane world had shaped his personality. He knew he was abrasive, irritating. It had begun in late grade school, when his mathematical turn had first shown. It was a defense mechanism. Even the bullies feared his sharp tongue, and through high school and university it had kept him protected from users and mockers.

Then the Stargate program had happened, and he found himself no longer the only brain in the mix - and then Atlantis mission cropped up. And everyone - _everyone_ - was the best of the best. Even the "grunts' - as he'd disparagingly labelled them to himself - were smart.

He sighed and rolled over. He'd surprised Carson, he knew, with how he'd dealt with everything the past few days - when dealing in the "real world" he'd found he wasn't taken seriously unless he exaggerated everything, and that if he needed something he had to fight twice as hard (or so it seemed) as the others, more physically attractive and socially adept, did to get it.

Thus his tantrums, his - well, no better word for it - whining.

But here. Here it was different. He'd learned that. He knew Carson had expected a lot of whinging during his recuperation. And he knew his friend was surprised at the co-operation and patience Rodney had shown.

That was another difference. His friend. Friends hadn't loomed large in Rodney's childhood, or adulthood for that matter. Co-workers tolerated him. His cat loved him, but that was it's job.

But now he had friends, who would share their chocolate ration with him, make him things, even just stick around and ease the incredible tedium by talking with him a while.

And who would do CPR for almost half an hour, refusing to believe that the bad guys could win.

The talks he'd had with Carson on the nature of humanity, with Elizabeth on the potential of the odder parts of Ancient technology – and new security protocols. Games of cribbage with Ford and the Athosian vesion of chess with Teyla. Endless arguments on fine points of astrophysics with Zerlenka.

And Sheppard seemed to be a constant, kibitzing the games and chats.

He thought again about what he was almost certain he'd seen, that last time, when his heart had stopped, and it warmed him as it always did. Near death experiences – scientifically they were just hallucinations brought on by hypoxia. Right.

Eyes closed, he heard steps behind him. Sheppard, again. They paused, and Rodney rolled back over.

"Thought you were asleep."

Rodney chuckled. He found himself doing that a lot more, recently. "Eighteen hours a day I've been sleeping. All I need is an attitude and hairballs and I'm a cat."

John grinned. "Attitude you got. Here. I brought you some clothes." He put the bag on the foot of the bed.

Rodney looked at them and nodded. "and I would have to have been wearing my favourite shirt when Kolya and his buddies showed up…" he grumbled. "I'd love to find a planet with a Roots store."

"Well, Teyla gave us a list of co-ordinates for some other trading partners, and a couple of deserted planets – who knows." John settled in the chair. "We're doing a milk run tomorrow, and I thought I'd take Zelenka with us. Teyla knows a group who might give Sora someplace to live. She can't go back."

"Zelenka? Send him to me and I'll give him some survival tips."

"Milk run, Rodney."

"Never happens, Major." He dug through the bag, nodded, and sighed.

"What's up?"

"Just thinking."

"I deduced that." John said dryly. "About?"

"You know how I got into the Stargate program?"

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, you were the backup genius for some problem."

"Backup genius? Please. I was…"and he caught John's quirked grin. "well, Sam and I are about equal, is all. Though maybe I've learned more about the mechanics…"

"You were saying?" John interrupted with elaborate politeness.

"Oh. Right. At the time, I didn't understand - intellectually, I always subscribed to the thought that every life is precious – well, sort of – maybe all intelligent life is precious..." he seemed on the verge of another ramble, but stopped himself.

"Anyway, it didn't make sense to me that Sam couldn't see we had no choice but to shut the gate down. Even though it would mean Teal'c would die. It was like he was a print job in a buffer, and the Stargate was the printer…I thought it was a weird simile, but…" and he noticed John's eyes crossing, and let the rest of the thought go.

"Anyway" he concluded. "I didn't understand why she could no more make the decision to kill her teammate than fly."

"And?"

"I do now." He seemed to run out of words, which never happened…or maybe the words he wanted to say were too emotional. He looked up at John, knowing he'd understand.

Sheppard nodded. "Knew you'd get it." he said. "Betcha wish you could tell Sam now, don't you?"

"Guess reading minds is part of it too, eh?"

John nodded, turned.

"John."

"Yeah?"

"I'm still gonna be an abrasive pain in the ass."

"I know. And I'll still be an annoying jarhead. But we'll all know there's nothing much to it. And that makes the difference."

Rodney nodded. Smart, he knew.

OoO

**Chapter 13**

_Guys – watch out for each other. I'm sorry I won't be there to help. You'll get home. Take me home, when you go._

The tape ran on, recording muffled sounds that brought back bad memories. McKay turned it off before it got to the really awful part. He'd heard that once already.

Carson had given him the recorder when he was discharged, with an offhand comment to return it once he was finished with it.

He rewound the tape, popped it out, reached for the degausser. Paused. Then he put the degausser down, and put the tape in an envelope, sealed it. Wrote "Sam Carter" on the front and put it in his footlocker.

Sam would know what to do with it. If it ever came to that again.


End file.
